


Sundown

by Issay



Series: Character Studies [5]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, More angst, Smut, author is very sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issay/pseuds/Issay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How he yearns for those nights and for how safe he felt back then with that strong embrace to guard his sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sundown

**Author's Note:**

> Chinese translation by [Akila_Kwok](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Akila_Kwok) is available [here.](http://akilakwok.lofter.com/post/2c623a_5fddbcd)  
> Russian translation by [MaD_Bibliophile](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MaD_Bibliophile) is available [here.](http://ficbook.net/readfic/3162582)

He remembers James in detail. Roughness of skin on the palms of his hands, salt so deeply ingrained in his pores that when Thomas licked that nameless place between neck and shoulder, he could taste sea water. And the warmth of a body pressed to his own, strong muscles of the arms that embraced him like he was the world embodied, like he was the most important being in the whole Universe and even beyond.  
He remembers James' eyes with color changing from green to grey, every wrinkle on that beloved face in the cold morning light of London in the winter. How it felt like to touch without shame those wide expanses of naked skin on strong back and shoulders used to carrying weight. In the short time they had together - and yet it was everything to him because Thomas had never felt so alive than when he was with James - he managed to remember it all. 

Inhale. Exhale.

 _It's almost time_ , says that voice in his head that sounds almost like Miranda. _He will never be free if you stay here, stuck, hoping every day that he will magically appear and take you away. No, he will never be safe because you know he wants it too, he wants to be your savior and you know this is the one thing he cannot be._  
_No, not yet_ , he answers. _Just a moment more._

Thomas has problems remembering times when he did not have to steal moments. Just like with James, it was just a kiss more, just a second to breathe in the scent of his skin, to remember fingers writing long forgotten spells on sweaty skin. And then, once again, they had to wear masks and pretend there was nothing more than sympathy and professional relationship, yes, God save the King. In Thomas' private opinion, King can go and fuck himself.  
It was so hard, almost impossibly hard, not to let anything show. Because when he knew how James' lips tasted like, how warm and slick was his tongue in his own mouth and how good it felt to have those lips on his cock, thinking about it felt too natural to be safe. So every day he had to pretend not to know all these things, not to want them and to suffocate under the false pretenses. But it was worth it. Every second of it was worth it because at the end of the day, if they were lucky, there was a soft bed and James' careful steps in the servant's corridor. There were long, lazy kisses and two shirts on the floor, two sets of pants and underthings, all carefully laid out so they would not mistake it for one another's in case they had to stop. But they never did.  
Thomas smiles, thinking about those long, sleepless nights bathed in candlelight, safe ones when he discovered and rediscovered things he thought he knew well. Night when he learned how to make James moan quietly with just his lips and how his lover's semen tasted like (good, he could not get enough of it, he can still taste it somewhere on the tip of his tongue if he tries), how to open him up with slick fingers and how it felt to be opened, and then full, so full. How a man could make him scream his release into a pillow, how it felt to have James inside, how he could feel it days after when they were more desperate than usual and did not bother with pleasantries such as oil.

He closes his eyes, pain ripping through his chest. How he yearns for those nights and for how safe he felt back then with that strong embrace to guard his sleep.

Inhale. Exhale. It is time.

Fingers James used to kiss, fingers used to quill and skillful lovers, are now busy with so much more important task. A delicate one. The last one.  
A noose.

 _It is the right thing to do_ , the voice says and Thomas wishes he had been given one more night, just to say goodbye. Or that he could send out a letter. It is not a thing a noble man should do, leave the world without a goodbye. But now James is a world away, an ocean taking him towards a safe place and Thomas prays. Not for his soul. But for James and for Miranda, may they be safe, may they live long and happy lives. May James find someone so he would not have to live his days alone. 

May he never forget Thomas.

"Know no shame," he whispers with a smile, stepping onto a stool and securing the noose.

Inhale.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the hardest thing I've ever written.


End file.
